Imitation of Life
by Stray
Summary: A follow up to physixxx's CedricHarryCedricCho story link inside alternate universe, in which Cedric didn't die. Pairing: CedricCho, HarryDraco, implied past CedricHarry


Title: Imitation of Life

Rating: R

Pairing: Cedric/Cho, Harry/Draco, implied past Cedric/Harry

Warning: sexual situations, ALTERNATE UNIVERSE!

Word count: 3100+

Beta-ed by Vaughn.

A/N: The fic can be understood on its own, but if you want to know what it started from, read physixxx's story here: http// community .livejournal. com/physixxxphixxx/2803. html#cutid1 . The title is courtesy of R.E.M.

Written for Jamie2109's AWDT, with the prompt: "The Lobster Thermidor looks delicious"

·°O-

"The Lobster Thermidor looks delicious."

_What a pompous jerk!_ That was Cedric's first thought when he heard the exclamation coming from behind his back.

Actually, it was the second. It came right after he had successfully stifled the first one. That wasn't even really a thought, more like an old, half-forgotten feeling of stirring interest, which he had learnt not to take notice of through the years. The tone was lighthearted, and the voice was a very pleasant baritone. It reminded Cedric of things he preferred not to think of.

The little voice inside of his head urged Cedric to turn around and satisfy his curiosity - to see whom that voice belonged to. He sat with a stiff back and concentrated on maintaining the neutral expression on his face and regulating his breathing. He didn't notice that his hands were clutching the silverware so hard that his fingertips turned white.

There was no merit in turning around, he told himself. If he saw the face of the man, what then? It would only lead to sleepless nights with him trying not to shift and turn too much, so as to not wake Cho. The little voice told him again that that was bound to happen anyway. If he didn't see the face, he would just try to imagine it. Probably while he was fucking Cho.

Cho was sitting opposite of him, and Cedric felt it safe to concentrate his attention on her. She was in the middle of examining the menu. It always took her annoyingly long to make up her mind about what she wanted for dessert. That wasn't the reason Cedric didn't like to take her out, though. It was the feeling of falsity that permeated the air around them whenever he was forced to spend time in her company in public.

Cho had an expression of casual interest plastered on her face. But he could feel her tension slowly ebbing towards him. It had been her idea to eat out, and Cedric could practically taste the pheromones of anxiety surrounding her. Or was it anticipation? He had never been able to read her very well. Despite having been married to her for eleven years now, and dating her for another four prior to that, he still didn't understand her. Perhaps he would have, had he harboured any kind of interest in her besides that of insinuating her into his existence as an important ingredient in the recipe of a 'perfect life'.

She had always known that he wasn't interested in her the way he should have been. Regardless, she had agreed to marry him and live a life in a semblance of what should have been domestic happiness, but was nothing more than upholding appearances. What was keeping her at his side? That was what he wondered about at the times when he questioned even his own motivations. It wasn't love; that feeling had come and gone long before their marriage, long before they had left school.

He knew what it was that kept _him_ at _her_ side. It was the promise of normalcy. It had been his own decision to give up that thing he had had with Harry - and with countless other boys on the side, their names and faces long forgotten.

It wasn't like he had come to regret that decision. The alternative life he had left behind had offered one kind of happiness, which he sorely missed sometimes, but at the same time it took away the security and the feeling of rightness his life with Cho held. To have those was another kind of happiness. Perhaps not as intense, but it gave him the stability he needed in his life. And it wasn't laced with shame and the fear of discovery.

Actually, he shouldn't have wondered about Cho's motivations. They were the exact same as his. Who was he kidding? He was Cedric Diggory, with nine years of a successful professional Quidditch career behind him, and now had established himself in a steadily rising position in the Ministry. He was a celebrity – a celebrity with money, no past scandals surrounding his person, living in a happy marriage with his beautiful and equally successful wife.

Who wouldn't want that? Cho surely did.

Cedric wanted it, too. It was something to be proud of, not something to mourn. And he was. He was proud of what he had accomplished. His father was proud of him, too; his family was proud of him; his wife was proud of him. And he was able to value all that. It was what had been expected of him by everyone, himself included.

There was the voice behind his back again, averting his attention from his own thoughts and from observing Cho. This time it was laughing at some kind of joke, and a few seconds later, it was joined by another one.

There was a sharp thud in Cedric's chest when he realised that the other voice was also that of a man, and he felt instantly jealous of the closeness they – in all appearances – shared. It couldn't be mistaken that they were at least very good friends, but Cedric's imagination also supplied him with another possibility.

They were verbally entangled in some kind of jaunty banter, laughing, and overall, acting as if there were no people in the room other than the two of them. Cedric knew that it wasn't something he had the prospect of ever obtaining with Cho. But he had already known and accepted that when he had chosen to be with her, hadn't he? It made no sense to wallow in self-pity now.

"I'm going to the toilet," he told Cho, and pushed himself away from the table without waiting for her answer.

She looked up briefly and nodded absently, only to continue her perusal of the menu again a second later. He had a feeling that she was avoiding his glance, but he wasn't in the mood to contemplate the reason for that. He knew she would tell him about it before the night was over.

After finishing his business, he quickly washed his hands. Large mirrors were covering the entire wall above the sinks, and he was absently examining his face in them while he lathered the soap and then rinsed off the suds.

The signs of the youthful nonchalance that had defined his life when he had been younger had been long gone from it. They gave way to other things. The lines around his mouth and eyes now reflected the importance of his position instead of a penchant for exuberance and joviality that had once come so naturally to him.

He liked the change, actually. It showed the changes in his attitude he had worked so hard to achieve. He had grown up and became the man he was now. A man, who had a model life with a trophy wife, a respectable career, a nice house, and no place in it for infantile fantasizing about clandestine meetings in dark, abandoned rooms.

Everything was how it should be.

On his way back, he shot a glance at the clock on the far wall. If Cho finished her dessert and came to the point of telling him why she had insisted that they go out within a half hour, he would be able to be home and watch tonight's match on the Firevision. He had no idea who would be playing whom, but it didn't matter, as he hadn't been following the rankings within the league since his retirement from his professional career. It was just something to air out his mind with, to help him forget the everyday hassle.

His gaze searched for their table, which he found when he spotted Cho eating some kind of parfait. Then it shifted slightly, and landed behind her, staying still at the sight of the familiar figure sitting at the other table.

His heartbeat stopped and his legs suddenly rooted to the spot when he recognised him, and at the same time, he realised that he must have been the one whose voice he had previously heard.

It was Harry. His Harry. And at the same time, it wasn't.

Cedric recognised the once short, scruffy and adorably shy boy in the man before his eyes, but he had changed so much. He looked confident and handsome. His clothes fit, both in size and in reflecting his personality. His glasses were a designer frame and his smile was that of a man who knew who he was and how much he was worth. Someone who felt right in his own skin and enjoyed life, wherever it would take him.

He wouldn't have been _his_ Harry even if he hadn't broken up with him at the time. Not to mention that he was sitting with another man, not-so-subtly holding hands under the table.

The politician in him, concerned for public appearances, abruptly frowned at this kind of display. But the part of what remained from his teenager self, who had been attracted – if not addicted – to that long gone boy, watched the scene with longing and self-loathing. He could have had this now, had he chosen Harry that time.

It was that moment that he realised who was sitting with Harry and his mind did another double-take. It was that horrible brat, Draco Malfoy, who had made the badge with Cedric's name on it, only to mock Harry. He had grown up as well, cleaned up nicely while he had been at it, and had now apparently occupied _his_ place at Harry's side.

Cedric wondered what could have forced Harry to turn towards him. Was there such a shortage of players for the other team? Or did the attraction lie in the factor of free sex with no strings attached? Most likely, he decided. Cedric wouldn't have figured Harry for being the type to go for casual sex, but clearly, people changed. He himself was the best example for it.

But if Harry was like that…

Cedric swallowed, barely noticing the annoyed glares the waiters carrying plates and platters gave him while they had to dance around him, because he was still standing in the same place he had been when he had first spotted Harry.

If Harry was like that, he perhaps wouldn't mind if Cedric…

He glanced again their way, only to get a shock when he didn't see Harry and Malfoy sitting there anymore. They had left while he had been immersed in his thoughts. He turned his head around wildly, and finally spotted them walking towards the exit.

Suddenly, his blood began to pump madly in his veins. He jolted out of his reverie and swung into action. He strode to their table, patting Cho on her back hurriedly.

She turned around, surprised, and opened her mouth to say something when she saw that it was him, but he cut her off.

"Cho, I've left my purse in the car. I'll be coming back shortly, "he told her, and then turned around to leave before she had time to react. He was lucky now that Cho had insisted they come with the Ministry limousine instead of Apparating.

Thinking of Harry and of what could be coming, he felt the beginning of an arousal coiling in his belly while he took the same path out that Harry and Malfoy had walked. His steps were quick and perhaps a bit too jerky from steadily building excitement.

He could have Harry back in his bed. He could have Harry as his dirty little secret. Not too frequently, perhaps once or twice a month, but it would be enough. Or would it be?

Then another possibility occurred him; it hit him in the chest like a hammer, pressing the air out of his lungs, suffocating him with the intensity of the picture it created in his mind. He could have him back not only in his bed, but perhaps in his life, too…

If he managed to convince Harry to give him another chance… He was only thirty-five… It wasn't too late for him yet. Cho wasn't a problem. If Harry wanted him to, he would divorce her. Most likely, she would take a large chunk of his money with her, and then leave in silence. Scandals would do no good to her career either…

This and these kinds of thoughts roamed around in his mind while he walked down the street hurriedly, his heart thumping in his throat, searching for Harry. He only hoped that they hadn't chosen to Apparate wherever they would have their little tryst.

He was half-determined to shout Harry's name – perhaps he would hear him and turn around to wait for him – when he heard muted voices coming from a dark alleyway nearby. He turned curiously towards the sounds, and even if the shadows concealed most of what was happening there, the gleam of Malfoy's blond head was unmistakable. It was moving back and forth at waist-height, and Cedric could just imagine what he must have been doing.

Then he heard Harry's voice, thick with arousal, repeating the name almost reverently. He didn't say 'Malfoy'. He said, 'Draco'. And then he said, 'I love you'.

Those three words stopped Cedric dead in his tracks, causing his blood to freeze, his rampant thoughts to focus in on them and his head to cool down at once.

In the next instant, Harry reached down, pulling the blond head up to him and reversing their positions. Now he had Malfoy pressed to the wall, and Malfoy let him. He allowed Harry to yank down his zip and free one of his gleaming white legs from his trouser-leg. It curled around Harry's middle while he lifted up Malfoy, and then lowered him gently onto his cock. For a few intense seconds, they just stayed like that, panting with restrained passion, and Cedric waited with bated breath.

Finally, Harry started moving. He pulled away and slammed home in short, rapid jabs. The telltale slapping sound of skin on skin was echoing in the night air, and Cedric's hand drifted southwards, trembling, as his palm sought out the outline of his hardened cock through the fabric of his slacks. He started rubbing in sync with Harry's thrusts and Malfoy's pants. He came in his trousers shortly before Harry went rigid with his own orgasm and stifled Malfoy's cries by fitting his mouth over his and shoving his tongue down Malfoy's throat.

Cedric didn't stay to see what happened next. He turned around sharply and started down the street. But he could still faintly hear the breathily exchanged pledges of love.

His head cleared in the cold night air on his way back to the restaurant. He was shaking, not because of the cold, but with the realisation that he had been a hair's breadth away from committing the most capital mistake of his life. He sighed with elation that circumstances had prevented him from it, and vowed that he would never yield to the temptation again, however strong it would be.

His thoughts drifted to the scene he had just witnessed. So Harry and Malfoy… It was painfully obvious now that it wasn't just a fling between them. He should have known. Harry was never the type to be able to content himself with just sex.

Had he been… who knew? Perhaps he would have remained Cedric's secret lover on the side, or been discarded along the way when he lost his interest in him, as it was bound to happen with everything. Yes. The thing he had had with him wouldn't have lasted even if Cedric hadn't broken up with him. That was just the way things worked.

He wrote off the small, indiscriminate ache in his stomach as misplaced nostalgia.

He had cleaned himself with his wand and straightened his slightly rumpled clothes in the last moment before entering the restaurant again. It was like a different world now, as opposed to what he had experienced outside. That symbolised the world he had left behind – a world of free skies, small secret places, blaring winds and surging adrenalin. This here was something smaller, more constrained, but at the same time, it was warm and calm. This was where he belonged now, even if he happened to miss that other life sometimes. It meant nothing. He missed playing Quidditch sometimes as well, and he wouldn't have been caught dead with his broom in hand, ready to sign up with the next best team that would have him. Not anymore.

When he reached their table, he told the waiter who had just arrived there that they would be leaving. The man looked at him with a strange expression, and placed a bottle of champagne and two goblets onto their table, which had been cleared of all remainders of their dinner. Cedric looked at the display, and then he looked up at Cho, baffled.

Cho was only smiling at him, and nodded her head, indicating that he sit down.

Cedric did, his eyes never leaving her face while she waited for the waiter to fill their glasses and leave. Then she took one of the elegant goblets in one hand and stretched out the other one on top of the table for Cedric to take. He smiled and mirrored her movements, enjoying the feeling that he was holding her hand, visible to see for anyone who cared to look, without having to stifle the rolling embarrassment when he felt people's gazes on the two of them.

Cho clinked her glass to his, and Cedric felt his mouth stretch into the twin of the smile on her face, his brows lifting questioningly. He held his breath until his wife finally opened her perfect rosy lips to speak.

"I am pregnant," she told him, with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

Cedric let out a short breath and felt his smile turn into a full-fledged grin.

They sat there for the next half hour, holding hands and talking excitedly about their future, sipping the champagne from their glasses – Cedric had four while Cho was still on her first, but that was how it should have been, since now that she was expecting, it wasn't right for her to drink.

Cedric couldn't stop smiling for the next couple of days, thinking of the son or daughter he would soon be able to hold in his hands. And then others would follow. Cho wanted to have three.

At night, when he was grunting on top of his wife, pounding into her soft and willing body, with her arms around his neck and her legs crossed around his middle, every time he closed his lids, it was the scene he had witnessed in that dark alleyway that played before his eyes over and over again.

Fin


End file.
